America Meets A Poltergeist
by otsuki-sama dango
Summary: When America runs into a Poltergeist through dumb luck, it puts a curse on him which forces him to confront the errors of his past. Can he find out who cares for him from behind the scenes, or will the person who loves him be forever shrouded in gray?


America Meets A Poltergeist

The young nation's pale blue eyes widened in surprise.

He didn't expect a garbage can to own a pair of eyes.

But the lid toppled off and the nation stepped back

As a poltergeist slowly emerged from the black.

"W-Who are you?" he cried at the ominous cloud,

Not running away, as he was too proud.

It tilted its head in mocking imitation

Of the currently shivering, cowering nation.

Then glared and grunted and twirled his finger 'till magic was in a collation

While chanting a terrible, deadly incantation.

America's eyelids began to droop

As the creature captured him in a stupor.

It cried, 'You who dares rip apart my peace

shall be cursed, lest I be in grief.

I use my magic wisely now

to send you a gripping, deathly howl.

The illness only breaks at last

when your true love shows you the errors of your past.

Who led you to be who you are

the only one to accept your scars.

Yet happiness has not cometh

as your memories have become an abyss!

The special person you've once unraveled

hath become a mystery road for you to travel!'

America snapped awake when the magic was done

And forwent his heroism to back up and run.

When safely away from the cloud of fright

America stumbled his way around the light.

The meeting he realized he was late for

Suddenly seemed so very far.

Remembering the directions, but weak in the knees,

America staggered with no level of ease.

Eventually, a building's shadow loomed over the sun

And poor America sighed in relief at the strength he had summed.

He opened the doors, coughing and wheezing,

And limped to his seat, suddenly freezing.

The other countries stared in quiet shock

At the nation who was always expected to talk.

Yet today he was silent and stared down at the ground

The outgoing nation in him just wasn't around.

Most worried of all of the table of countries

Was England, who had his mouth open bluntly.

"America, you git, what have you done?

You've done something stupid, calling it fun!"

England insulted America, thinking he'd react,

But all he got in response was a tortured hack.

The old nation brought his hand to his face in worry,

His elbows rested on the table, his vision became blurry.

But England cleared his head enough to think logically

And took the other nation by the shoulders methodically.

The back of his hand felt the other boy's temple,

And all became clear; America's health was fragmental.

England ran his fingers through the country's sweaty hair

Ignoring the other nation's purposeful stares.

"Hang on, you git," England whispered quietly,

"You'll get home safely," he soothed, despite his anxiety.

America hummed in content

After his walk he was spent.

"England," he mumbled,

"It's hot in Florida," and England's resolve crumbled.

He let the other nation's head rest on his shoulder

And took his notes for him, also watching him smoulder.

As the meeting bore on, England started to fret

Who could carry the weighty country now covered in sweat.

France? Not the frog.

Germany? Reminded him of a bulldog.

Italy.. Never mind.

China? He's not that kind.

Sighing in frustration, as his temper was so short,

England was running out of options for an extra escort.

'Till his gaze rested on Japan.

America's friend, it was the perfect plan!

When the meeting finally ended,

Japan and England had America suspended.

They carried him three blocks to his hotel,

Unknowing his illness was some sort of spell.

England huffed and puffed once they got to his bed,

Remembering how to the office desk attendant he had pled.

Humiliating, really;

That git would pay for being so silly!

Japan headed home, but England stayed;

He got America some pills and had his bed made.

After dark, England left the hotel,

Taking a last look which made his heart swell.

America was sleeping with smiling tranquility,

Giving England a sense of timeless gentility.

He walked towards the nation whom he had once lost,

And picked up his hand so their fingers crossed.

Holding it up to his face as if it were so fragile,

England whispered ,"Get well soon, love," then let their hands unravel.

Spoiled himself in the wistful memories of the past

England pretended he wouldn't need to get over them fast.

The next meeting passed mostly without event,

With exception of the loud nation's absence, the day came and went.

England took the young country's notes,

Using more diligence than normal (not that he gloats).

As any proper gentleman would,

England reported to America's hotel as fast as he could.

When he knocked on the door and didn't receive and answer,

He assumed America was asleep and entered with candor.

Looking to the water glass sitting empty on the desk,

England knew America's condition had progressed.

The nation himself lay in a lump strewn about,

Still sweaty and shivering and sick, no doubt.

At the moment England had placed the notes on the desk,

There was a knock on the door which opened before he could protest.

Roses were scattered in the room in an instant

As France walked in from the distance.

"You Frog!" yelled England without waking America,

"Why are you here?" he exclaimed, "It's tainting the air!"

"Why Angleterre, you must know _why_ I'm here," France said,

"I thought you'd need some help with Amerique, I was thinking ahead!"

"I can handle him just fine on my own!" shouted the indignant nation,

"So leave me to it, you egotistical abomination!"

"My, my, Angleterre, calm down," France looked hesitant,

"You know I'm only here to make sure you're not drowning yourself in sentiment,"

At that point England let his shoulders relax

And the Europeans headed to the couches as France had managed to distract.

Thus they didn't notice a sly blue eye crack open,

To eye the situation in a fast, smooth motion.

Because America was very much conscious

(France's obnoxious laughter was just that pompous).

America knew this was his sole chance

To witness what England was like when he was only with France.

Somehow the young country was inexplicably certain

What he was about to hear would to him unburden.

So bold was America in his revelation

He turned 'in his sleep' to better see the altercation.

"Why do you think I still care about the Revolution?

I've gotten over it, that old dissolution!"

"Does he hate me or miss me?

What does he think of this old limey?"

England growled in irritation.

"I've never felt such indecision!"

Upon hearing the declaration, America tensed.

'Does he really think that stuff?' He thought, fists clenched.

America had never known of the suffering

Which prompted the anger England was currently mustering.

He'd always thought of himself as the hero, stuck in the evil England's tight grasp

And never assumed of sadness which consumed, and for that, America felt bad.

"Oh?" France taunted with a smirk on his face.

"I think you've done more than lose a bit of grace."

"Shut up!" England tried, though he knew it was futile;

When France got like this, his words could be brutal.

"You've drunkenly cried more times than can count,

Seems America gave you more problems than you could surmount.

You've asked yourself 'Why?' so many times before,

Wondered 'Could I have done better?' sobbing on the floor."

"Indeed, America was the one true person you called 'friend',

And when he left you, it led to loneliness he didn't intend."

"Enough!" England screamed, body shaking, eyes closed tight,

What could _you_ understand about his and my plight?"

"Enough to know, mon cher, of the deepest affection

Accumulated over time binding a new connection."

"Yeah, he and I are closer than before,

But that doesn't change the fact that that bloke broke my heart!" England swore.

As those last words were said, America felt fatigue strike,

And his shock, joy, and regret whirled out of his sight.

A spell of sleep was just what it was,

For the magic was about to uncover its cause.

The next morning, America's hotel was in disarray

Leaving a very confused nation to ponder through the day.

England and France seemed bitter, but then they always did

And America thought nothing of their fight; those thoughts he rid.

America remembered that he had been sick

And someone he loved dearly had taken care of it..

But strangely enough, he couldn't fathom

Who this nation was, for in his mind there was a chasm.

He brushed it off as fever delusion

And figured waiting for the reveal was the best solution.

After the meeting, he was approached unexpectedly

By France smiling slyly and a look in his eyes screaming 'deadly'.

"Say, Amerique, about your little illness,"

America's curiosity granted him stillness,

"I'd like you to know that you owe me nothing

For giving you medicine and giving you loving."

America's eyes widened and he jumped back in shock

As he was seemly madly in love with 'the frog'.

America knew he needed to find out

For sure whether or not that was true beyond doubt.

"I.. Um.. I.. D-Don't know about this.."

"Ahh, come on, Amerique, it's just one little kiss.."

France tilted his head and leaned in one smooth motion

All America could do was look on with dread when, "BOOM!" a commotion.

There, England stood, eyes wild and frightening

As he held Hungary's frying pan, sending France flying.

"AMERICA! Bloody hell, are you alright?"

America quickly turned from shocked to relieved, and let out a "quite".

"Dude, thanks so much, I really owe you one!"

America smiled and pulled him in a hug.

England's face turned red, which made America look down

With a shyness uncharacteristic of the usual clown.

"America? What's wrong? Are you still traumatized?"

"Anyone'd be, after that surprise,"

America chuckled, and then chose to say,

"He said he took care of me when I was sick, like I'd believe that anyway."

Then England turned a very strange shade of white

And said, "Do you remember about France and I's fight?"

America shook his head, prompting England's sigh of relief,

"Thank goodness, that'll save me plenty of grief."

"With everything that's happened, at least your notes will be up to date!

By the way, git, I expect those to be repaid."

England said this offhandedly, but caused America to halt;

"Wait a minute, England, so those notes were _your_ fault?!"

England shrugged and said, "Well, doesn't matter much,"

But to America, his answer was close enough.

And with that casual comment, America pulled him in a hug,

Different from the last one, it was longer, more snug.

"A-America?" England asked with disbelief,

Fearing the moment as what his mind had conceived.

"I'm sorry," he blurted, seriously and with insistence,

"For leaving you all those years ago, with no one there for assistance."

England's vivid green eyes shone with unshed tears

As he buried himself in America's shoulder away from fears.

"When you put it like that, you plonker, how _can't_ I forgive you?"

America smiled wholeheartedly as they stood there, stuck together like glue.

England and America were finally at peace,

And it turned out France had held the keys.

They were finally close enough to touch

And it had only taken a Poltergeist to figure out as much.


End file.
